Fox
by Uncle.Dragon
Summary: Even though this is a Tsurara and Rikuo pairing, the narrative belonged to the Kitsune. Enjoy anyway.


I stand watching, it's all I can do. The small boy I see is going to get hurt, I know he is. Rikuo is climbing the old apple tree in the yard, the one his father told him never to climb because the branches would break easily and he could get hurt. Rikuo didn't listen to him. Rikuo is out on a branch, and it's cracking. I want to save him, I have to, but a Dragon holds me back. He says that it isn't yet time. Rikuo falls, I scream as he hits the ground head first. Rikuo is rushed to the hospital, and gets his first concussion at seven years old.

All because that damned Dragon said it isn't time yet.

Rikuo is eight years old. I watch him play in the front yard of his house while his father talks to a neighbor. I watch as his basketball rolls into the street, and Rikuo runs to get it. I see the man yelling into his cell phone as he drives down a residential road. The man doesn't see Rikuo, but I do. I try to move, but the Dragon has placed shackles on me to hold me back once again. I can do nothing but scream. The man finally sees Rikuo and slams on his breaks, stopping just in time. But he ran over the basketball. Rikuo cries for his ball, the man yells into his phone again, and Rikuo's father cries that he could have lost his adopted son.

I cry because he said it isn't time yet.

Rikuo is nine years old today, and I watch as he climbs into his father's car during his party. He didn't see what he wanted, and checks to see if it's hidden in the car. Rikuo doesn't notice when he shifts the car from 'park' to 'neutral,' but I do. I yell, hoping someone will hear me, but they never do. The car starts to slowly roll down the street it was parked on. Rikuo feels the car moving and screams for his father, who is wondering where his son got to. I shake the chains that restrain me, I have to help him before he crashes into the tree and die! But I can't get free. Then the Dragon pats me on the head, saying it isn't time yet. I scream as the car crashes. Little Rikuo survives the crash, but he'll have a scar on his back for the rest of his life.

My beautiful Rikuo is scarred all because that Dragon says it isn't time yet.

Rikuo is thirteen now, years have gone by since he last was in danger. I watch as Rikuo enters his seventh grade classroom, excited to make friends at his new school. I know what's going to happen, and I hate it. They see him and they laugh, they think he's a geek, that his scar is hideous. Rikuo wants to cry, I see how much he does, but he holds it in like a brave boy. When he gets home, he finally breaks down. His father is at his job overseas, so he cries alone. I want to hold him close, wrap my nine powerful tails around him, tell him it's alright, but the chains hold me back once again. As Rikuo wipes his eyes, I know what he will say.

He may be hurting, but it isn't time yet.

Rikuo is fifteen now and entering high school. He's cried a lot since his father died on his job, but he's hopeful things will be different; he always did. The popular girl from his middle school, Ienaga, waved at him and winks, and so Rikuo is sure this year will be better. But I know what that girl will do to him. I try to tell him that she's only using him, she wants to crush him entirely, and she will. But Rikuo can't hear me, he never has. One month later, he finds out what I meant. She crushed him as expected, and he's crying alone again. Although Rikuo now owns a large apartment, but I know that he needs someone. I want to hold him, but my chains hold me back. I fight them, shout that he needs me, but that Dragon says no, it isn't time. I try to break off the shackles on my wrists, but I only cause the blood that runs in my veins to spill. Rikuo is done crying now, and my wrists still drip red blood. I dislike that Dragon more than ever now.

My Rikuo doesn't believe in love anymore, because that accursed Dragon says it isn't time yet.

Rikuo is sixteen now. He has a license, he has a nice car and excellent swordsmanship, and many people like him for the car and skills. The car costs money, but Rikuo could afford it. A girl he's recently become friends with invites him over the same night a popular girl invites him to the party at her house. Rikuo blows the nice girl off. I scream at him, swearing at the Dragon too. I can see that this kind girl is the one for him, his future wife. Once again, he doesn't hear me. Rikuo still dreams of being popular; being accepted by his peers. At the party, his car gets beaten with a baseball bat. The damages cost thousands. Then Rikuo finally snaps and grabs his wooden sword to fight. She is ready to hit them, something she has never done before. I strain against my chains and shackles, fighting to protect him from the blows that will break bones. But that Dragon holds me back, tells me it isn't time. I see Rikuo walking to his battered car after his victorious battle; in an equally heavily battered body, and I cry because he's in pain, for he has a broken quite a few ribs.

He's in the hospital and now feared by everyone, but it wasn't time yet.

Rikuo is nineteen now, starting his first year of college. He wants to be a social worker, to help children who have bullies like he did. I know he will help many children. The girl he made friends with in high school is at college with him. They're still friends, but I can see that she wants more. Young Tsurara is madly in love with Rikuo, and will wait for him forever if need be. When Rikuo's classmate decides to have his football buddies beat him up for hanging out with the beautiful Tsurara, I want to intervene. The shackles that forever damned Dragon placed on me held me back again. He's been beaten bloody, and wants to cry. But he doesn't. He's lying on a park bench, trying to wait until the pain stops to try walking back to his dorm with his wooden sword for a crutch. I want to hold him and take away the pain, but I can't. As I see Tsurara approach him, I see that for once I don't need to.

Rikuo is hurting, but this time I know it isn't time yet.

Rikuo is twenty-four now, and is going to propose to Tsurara tonight. I'm so happy for Rikuo, that he will never be alone again. I watch as she says yes, jumping up and down excitedly. I smile; happy for the both of them. They reach the apartment they share together, and see the door ajar. They hear noises inside, Rikuo tells Tsurara to wait outside, not to follow him in. I scream at Rikuo not to go in, but he can't hear me. I know what awaits these two. Tsurara doesn't listen and follows him inside, only to see two armed robbers inside. One jumps through an open window, escaping, while the other aims his gun at Tsurara. I scream, knowing that if Tsurara is killed, it will kill Rikuo. I scream and cry and fight against my restraints, but the Dragon repeats that it isn't time yet. I don't know how it could not be time, so I still struggle. As the remaining robber fires his gun, I scream as Rikuo tries to jump in front of her, but it's too late. Tsurara falls to the ground, bleeding from the wound in her chest. The robber runs away, and Rikuo cries, dialing 110 as tears stream down his face.

Tsurara is near her deathbed, but he says it isn't time yet.

It is the same night, later at the hospital. Tsurara is in the operating room; inside for several hours. It is nearly midnight, and Rikuo is sitting in the lobby with Tsurara's mother. She is sobbing, glaring at Rikuo in between breaths. She blames Rikuo, they both know it, and Rikuo blames himself, too. Rikuo is crying as well, albeit silently. I want to comfort him, but I can't. I can't help Rikuo directly, that Dragon doesn't have to tell me this. Finally, it is time. This I know with my entire being. My shackles are released, the chains vanish, and he tells me I'll know exactly what to do. And the Dragon is right. I walk into the Operation Room, watching as the surgeons try their best to save Tsurara, but her heart is damaged. They can't repair it. As they declare her dead, they back away from her and bow their heads. I step forward, and cup my hands. What is in my hands is more precious than anything in the world. I hold my own heart. I place it gently in Tsurara's chest, taking her damaged heart into my hands. She starts breathing again, startling the doctors who begin to rush, securing her vitals, muttering about miracles. I know she will be okay.

I have watched Rikuo his entire life, I was there at his birth, his birthdays, when he lost his birth and foster families; every moment of his life. I've been with him through it all, though he never knew it. It was my job to watch over him, care for him, and if or when it was necessary, sacrifice my existence for her life. He never saw or heard me, but sometimes I believed he sensed me near. He would never know who saved him when he was desperate, but it was to be that way since I received him as my first and only assignment as a guardian spirit. I know Rikuo better than he knows himself, and I never wanted him to get hurt. I love him like he was my own flesh and blood.

I never understood when the Dragon said it wasn't time yet. But now I do. If I had taken every blow intended for him, I wouldn't be here now, when he needed me most. I wouldn't be able to save Tsurara, and Rikuo would kill himself, overcome with grief over losing the love of his life. As much as it hurt us both, I had to let Rikuo get hurt so I could be here now.

I watch from a distance as the doctor comes into the lobby, delivering the news that by some miracle, Tsurara has survived the operation – she will live. I watch as Rikuo smiles, crying tears of happiness as he hugs his soon to be mother-in-law.

That is the last time I ever see him. I have Tsurara's heart, and vice versa. This Dragon allowed Tsurara's broken, damaged heart to beat long enough for me to see the fruit of my sacrifice. I smiled as my existence faded away to nothing.

I, Hagoromo Kitsune, will never again watch over anyone, I will never again be a guardian spirit, but because my Rikuo is alive and happy, I find that I don't mind that much.


End file.
